You Can't Outrun the World
by Breathing January
Summary: The second the war ended Harry Potter went missing, leaving no trace behind. What if, on his 23rd, Harry comes back, with a new look, almost unrecognizable and is first recognized by the one person who he couldnt stop thinking about while he was gone?


The day after the end of the war, Harry Potter went missing.

After everyone was done congragulating him for defeating Voldemort once and for all, he went up to Gryffindor tower to sleep - something he hadn't done properly for a while. After an hour, Neville, Ron, Seamus and Dean joined him and took refuge in their old beds. The next day, however, when they woke up, Harry's bed was cold. Almost like he was never in it in the first place.

The world went into a frenzy. Professor McGonogall had the ghost's and portraits search the entire castle. Ron and Hermione apparated to places they went during their search for the Horcrux's, wondering if he would have showed up somewhere along those lines. They searched Number 4 Privet Drive, Godric's Hollow, and The Burrow, but Harry wasn't anywhere they expected. They went to places he talked about, places he had pictures of, but they couldn't find him.

The newspaper's had a field day with this story. There were multiple articles in every single wizarding newspaper there was. Even a few muggle newspapers did an article or two about Harry going missing.

It was like Harry Potter had vanished from the face of the earth.

Every night for a few weeks, Ron was in Ginny's room, holding her as she cried herself to sleep. She had lost a brother and a lover in the same day, and Ron was trying to hold it together as he pulled her close and buried his face in her red hair. Tears would soak through his shirt as sobs raked through Ginny's body, and all Ron could do was wrap her up in his arms because there were no words of comfort to offer. Hermione would always stand in the doorway of Ginny's room, tears streaming down her own cheeks as she watch Ron fall apart at the seams.

George's room was always silent. Hermione went in there once, to see how he was doing. What she walked in on scared her half to death. George was sitting on Fred's bed, his red hair shiny and to long. His blue eyes were sunken in, and seemed to look through Hermione when he glanced over at her. Though they still sparkled, they were haunted. His shoulders were hunched and his smiled was painfully fixed. There was a mirror on his lap, and Hermione could hear his neck creak and crack when he looked back down into it. She asked what he was doing, and he had said; "Talking to Fred."

She sat beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "George, honey, you need to realize that you can't talk to Fred anymore."

George stopped smiling, and turned to face her, not saying a word. She went to try and take the mirror from his lap, but he slapped a hand down on it and said, "Harry's gone. He's one brother I lost. At least I can still see Fred. Don't take that from me."

No one goes in George's room any more.

Molly Weasley tries to hold it together, too, but everyone notices when she accidentally sets two extra plates at the table every breakfast, lunch and supper. They try not to watch as she goes to put food down on the plates that have no occupants and then freezes. They shift their gazes away at last minute, trying to avoid wanting to cry when she gather's up the two empty plates and puts them away.

The Ministry had set up a search party of nothing but the best Aurors they have on request from Aurthur Weasley, who just wants Harry home. The search party was active for two years, until they all decided that maybe Harry isn't even alive anymore. When Minister Shacklebolt came to Aurthur to tell him this two years later, it broke Aurther's heart, but he just smiled and said "I understand."

That was when the Weasley's lost hope.

* * *

It was on Harry Potter's 23rd birthday when he decided to come home.

In the six years that Harry had been missing, a new bar had been opened in Diagon Alley. The Golden Phoenix, is what it's called. A year after it had been opened in Diagon Alley, it had branched out to Hogsmeade, and Dufftown and Godric's Hollow, but Harry Potter turned up in the one in Diagon Alley. Harry opened the door to the Golden Phoenix and walked in, head down and focusing on taking off his jacket as he weaved in between the crowd to get to the bar. It was 11 o'clock at night and the bar seemed more packed then ever.

In the six years that Harry has been missing, he changed his appearance. In stead of being that short, awkward, teen with to-big glasses and that ghastly lightning-bolt scar, he looks normal. He's gained confidence and strides with an air of knowing his place in the world and knowing how to handle it. He fixed his vision with a simple spell, so glasses are unwanted and his wide green eyes, framed by long lashes, are fully exposed to the world. His skin, which used to be littered with the black heads that every teenager gets when going through puberty, is now as clear, smooth, tanned, and perfect as someone you would find in a muggle movie. His once upon a time curly, un-tameable hair is pin-straight and swept to the side, falling in his eyes occasionally. Not soon after the war, and when his stress was finally officially gone, did he have a proper growth spurt either, so now he towers over everyone at a good 5'11". His scar that distinctly made him the Boy-Who-Lived is now covered up by a permanent glamor.

Not a single soul in the bar recognized him when he swung open the door and took a place at the counter. He order a simple firewhiskey and tugged off his cloak.

His glass was only half empty when someone leaned on the bar, smiling at him faintly. Harry guessed this guy was younger then him, but still in his twenties. 21, maybe? 22? If it weren't for the fact that you have to be 21 and over to get into this bar, Harry would have guessed this guy to be 17 or 18 with his style. Black hair, professionally styled streaks of blonde in the fringe that's falling in his bright blue eyes. If it weren't for the deep, white scar curling around the corner of the guys thin lips, he would have perfect skin.

Harry raised his eyebrows at him and waited for him to speak first. Long, gentle fingers ran along Harry's jaw line and he had to suppress a shiver at how cold the guy's hand was.

"I'm Tyger," he said, voice smooth and lacking a British accent. Was he from around here?

Harry didn't want to give his real name, so he blurted out the first name that came to his mind; "Jacob."

Tyger titled his head to the side slightly and his blue eyes sparkled mischievously; "Well, Jacob," he purred, "What brings you here?"

"A visit." Harry was well aware of Tyger's attempts to flirt with him, and he was going to play along for a while, but he wasn't that interested. Harry slid off his chair and picked up his drink. Tyger was his height, maybe slightly taller, and Harry could see his eyes following the movement of his adams apple as he downed his drink in one go. Harry smirked into his glass at that.

"Can this visit be delayed 'til tomorrow?" Tyger purred.

Harry set his glass down and went to say that it couldn't because he told his friend he'd see them the second he got into town. Someone beat him to it though. A drawling voice came from the other side of Harry; "No, it can't, Tyger."

Tyger's eyes instantly hardened, and he straightened his posture. He looked across Harry and regarded the man that spoke coldly, "I don't believe I was asking you."

"No matter, I speak the truth. Run along."

Tyger narrowed his eyes, spun on his heels with a flourish and sauntered away.

Harry turned to face his savior and felt his mouth go dry. His jade eyes met a silver gaze and without looking away, Harry raised his finger in a gesture for another drink. A moment later, his glass was full again. The man who shooed away Tyger sat gracefully on the bar stool beside Harry and spun it, so it was facing the bartender. He ordered a firewhiskey also and placed his elbows on the counter. Harry reluctantly sat back down, although every fiber in his body was screaming at him to turn around and run while he still has the chance.

"Jacob, is it?" the man said.

Choking back a relieved sigh that he wasn't recognized, Harry said; "Yes, and you are?"

"Draco."

Harry's mind flipped upside down with his stomach as he was proven right. At first glance at Draco, he wasn't one-hundred percent sure it was him. His platinum blonde hair isn't so white anymore, more golden. Just like his skin. Instead of being as white as a ghost, he tanned well, his tone just slightly lighter then his light brown hair. With the drastic change from white to golden, Draco's silver eyes stand out much more. His cheek bones are more accented, and his cheeks are more hollow. His lips are just a bit more thin and a bit more red then Harry last's remembers. Harry took a long sip of his drink, waited for the burning to pass and continued;

"Do you know Tyger, Draco?"

"I was with him, for about a year or so." said Draco, nonchalantly.

Slightly surprised, Harry's eyebrows rose and he asked, "Why'd you break up?"

"I thought we had a strong relationship so I thought it would be okay if I told him that I was in love with someone else. I did care for him, I did love him, but I wasn't in love with him, you know? Well, you can imagine he didn't take that well, so we got into a fight, and I kicked him out." Draco sounded un-phased by this, and totally okay with telling a stranger. He took a swig of his drink and then placed it back on the counter to stare into the depths of the amber liquid.

"I had the same problem a few years ago, too." confessed Harry.

Draco glanced at Harry; "Did you now?"

Harry nodded, not looking at Draco; "Yes, with this girl. We were together for half a year, but we were friends for six years before that. I thought she would understand why I had to break it off with her, because I only felt for her like a sister, but she threw a fit. So childish."

Draco snorted.

When they both finished off their drinks, and stood up, Draco turned to Harry and asked; "So, Jacob, do you really have someone your going off to visit?"

"No." came the blunt answer.

"Would you like to spend the night, then?"

"Well, you're rather confident in yourself, aren't you?"

Draco laughed, and rubbed his forehead, shoulders relaxing slightly. He was about to say something, but Harry cut him off, saying that he would love to spend the night.

The second they were in Draco's flat, Draco shoved Harry onto the pale blue couch and glared down at him. Harry shifted uncomfortably under Draco's intense gaze. He couldn't bring himself to meet the grey eyes, so instead he trained his green eyes on the pictures lining the wall. Blaise Zabini's wedding.. Pansy Parkinson's 21st birthday, if the large banner in the background was anything to go by... Daphne Greengrass and her newborn girl... Astoria Greengrass, Theodore Nott and Draco in Paris... The Quidditch world cup when they were fourteen... Draco, Pansy, Blaise and Theo playing exploding snap... Crabbe and Goyle in year six, playing with fireworks in the Slytherin Common Room...

"Look at me, Jacob." Draco spat out the name Jacob like it was poison.

Harry reluctantly met his gaze and had to suppress the urge to squirm under it.

Draco sat on the coffee table in front of Harry, elbows on his knees; "You know, you didn't fool me for a second. I'd know your eyes.. You're voice.. Anywhere." Draco whispered and Harry's heart plummeted into his stomach, which flip flopped everywhere. Draco's eyes softened and the silver began to dance and swirl again.

"I've known you all your life. I was the only person to ever get under your skin. Do you really think six years and an appearance change will make me forget?" he continued, voice still eerily quiet.

Harry's eye's began to stray again, but this time to the opposite wall. The opposite wall was full of paintings.. But not just any paintings. Paintings of Harry. They were beautiful, water color paintings of Harry Potter. Harry in potions, peering into his cauldron... Harry playing Quidditch, arm stretched out, catching the snitch... Harry swimming in the black lake, which he only once at midnight in year five... Harry stuck in a tree... Harry walking down the corridors, laughing with Seamus and Neville... Harry in Transfiguration, attempting to turn a toothpick into a chair... Harry in the Great Hall, sitting beside Luna who's wearing her brilliant lion hat...

"Did you think you could out run the world, Harry?" Draco said softly, reaching out a gentle hand and making Harry look at him.

"Yes." he replied.

Harry sniffed, though he wasn't crying. Not even close. He didn't feel bad for leaving like he did. He needed to do something for himself for once, and not worry about others. He needed to find himself and care about himself, and he could now that the world wasn't in danger anymore. He could leave without worrying about Hermione and Ron dying because of a war he left behind. When he left, he found himself, he grew into his skin and he felt truly happy. The only reason he decided to come home was because he thought now that he's changed, it might be a good idea to see how his old life was doing. He was going to move into 12 Grimmauld Place, and visit Ron and Hermione tomorrow. Maybe buy another owl, the complete opposite of Hedwig so he doesn't hurt every time he'll look at it.

But then he ran into Draco Malfoy, the one person he didn't think would recognize him.

"You can't run away from ghosts." continued Draco.

Harry shuddered, though he doesn't know why.

"They may never catch you, but they always find you."

Without warning, Harry closed his hand around Draco's wrist, pulled him onto his lap and kissed his furiously. At first Draco didn't respond, completely shocked, but then he shifted. He shifted so he could straddled Harry more comfortably and closed his eyes, kissing Harry back. Harry let go of Draco's wrist to wrap his arms around the blondes waist and Draco tangled his longs fingers in Harry's jet-black hair.

When Draco pull away, he carefully crawled off of Harry's lap and sat back on the coffee table. Harry looked at him, a pleading look in his emerald eyes. Pleading for Draco to understand that he did want to run away from the world. That he did want to be forgotten. That he did want to come back and not be recognized. That he was hoping something like this wouldn't happen.

Without a single word, Harry gripped his wand in his pocket and apparated out of the living room.

It was two months later when Harry finally saw Draco again. Harry had moved into 12 Grimmauld Place, frowning at the way Kreacher let it get. It wasn't as bad as when Harry first saw it, but it wasn't as clean and homely as Kreacher had made after Harry had given him Regulus's locket a long time ago. He had called for the old house elf and was taken aback when Kreacher seemed pleased to see him. He hugged Harry's leg and then got to cleaning up the house again, calling out stuff like he thought Harry was dead so he wasn't keeping up with cleaning as often as before. Harry had told him it was perfectly fine, and within two days the house was warm and clean and liveable.

He didn't leave the house for two months, terrified of being recognized. He blocked the floo network, so no one can come through or call him and he placed stronger wards on the house.

Harry wasn't sure why he felt the way he did, but he felt himself getting more miserable every day he woke up. He found himself feeling horribly lonely when he would sit on the couch by himself or at the kitchen table. It was cold, too, waking up every morning alone. Every time he would dwell on these feelings, however, he found himself wishing it were Draco to be the one person to fix him.

So it was with pursed lips and determination shining in his eyes that he left his house on a chilly fall day in October and headed for Hogsmeade. He didn't want to visit Hogwart's, no, he wanted to visit Aberfourth Dumbledore, because he knew that if he trusted anyone to keep his identity a secret it would be either him or Hermione. But Harry wasn't ready to face Hermione just yet, so he trudged up the high street to the Hogs Head.

When the door flew open, Harry cursed under his breath.

He didn't know if the fates were against him completely or not, but he knew something out there hated him enough to place a certain blonde at the bar in the Hogs Head. On this day, at this exact time. A cold breeze rushed past him and into the run-down pub and Aberfourth glanced over; "Oi! Close that bloody door, it's not summer anymore." he called over. Harry reluctantly closed the door behind him and pulled off his cloak. He threw it haphazardly onto a chair beside Draco and sat down.

Draco eyed him warily, with sparkling eyes and Harry tried a smile for him, although it probably looked more like a grimace.

Draco turned his silver eyes away from Harry and continued his conversation with Aberfourth before Harry rudely interrupted them. Harry wasn't listening to their conversation at all, not the words. He waited for the moment for Draco to stop talking to Aberfourth so he could ask Draco to talk in a private booth somewhere.

And when that moment came, Draco hesitantly stood up, downed the rest of the dark brown liquid in his glass and dropped a few coins on the counter. Aberfourth eyed Harry suspiciously as he led Draco to the most isolated booth.

When they settled into the booth, Harry pressed his back against the cushioned seat and sighed; "Listen," he began quietly, "I'm sorry. I know what I did was awful and you didn't deserve it - "

"Damn right I didn't" Draco mumbled, examining his nails.

Harry raised his eyebrows, but continued as if he didn't hear Draco, "I just didn't expect to be recognized so fast and I panicked because that was really the last thing I wanted. I didn't even plan to go and see Ron and Hermione for a while and then you were there..." Harry voice trailed off and this time it was Draco's turn to raise his eyebrows and be curious in Harry's glazed over eyes and thoughtful expression.

"Potter?" he asked tentatively.

That seemed to snap Harry out of his daze, because he shook his head slightly and said, with a small smile, "Call me Harry."

"Harry," Draco tried, and they both silently decided that they liked the way Harry's first name sounded, rolling off Draco's tongue.

"I want you to know that..." Harry took a quiet, deep breath and frowned momentarily before collecting himself leaning forward, hands on the table, "One of the reasons why I never got back together with Ginny was because of you. I felt the oddest feelings towards you and I knew that I would ever find those same feelings with anyone else... Especially not Ginny.. So I decided to just, not date. I still feel the same way towards you."

Silver eyes narrowed and Harry swallowed his insecurity.

"What specifically do you feel towards me, Harry?" demanded Draco.

Harry opened his mouth, and closed it. He didn't quite now how to put it words yet, how he felt about the blonde, and he wasn't really expecting Draco to ask that. With his thoughts scattered everywhere, Harry tried his best to find a coherent one that could tell him what he felt. He didn't find one coherent one, however, more like fifty incoherent ones that make sense once you put them all together.

"Like.." started Harry uncertainly, "Like I should hate you more then anyone in the world, but I can't help but wake up every morning wishing you were beside me. Like I shouldn't even be sitting here without throttling you, but all I really want to do is drag you across the table and snog the living daylights out of you again. Like.. I think I deserve better but I don't want anyone else. Like there could be a possible chance of me falling in love with you if we gave this a chance."

Harry flushed pink and looked down at his hands as he picked at his nails. Draco's eyes were wide and slightly vulnerable-looking as he gaped at Harry, thinking this is all a dream. A slightly uncomfortable silence fell over the booth. The dust in the air could be seen as it shifted through the sunlight streaming through the windows. It shifted and pulsed with the breathing of the two men, and Draco still couldn't find his voice. It was Harry who spoke up first, scratching the back of his neck;

"Damn, that made more sense in my mind." He said with a nervous chuckle.

"Do you really want me?" Draco blurted out and then flushed a deep red at the thought of what he just said.

Harry looked up, and searched the depths of his swirling silver eyes for a moment. His blush slowly crept away and he breathed deeply, considering this. It would be hard for him and Draco if they did get back together, Harry knows that.. He just wonders if it would all be worth it in the end. He knows there will be a lot of fighting and arguing and breaking objects. There might even be nights spent on the couch or even at a friends house. Maybe they'll even break up every other week and then get back together? There's a slim to none chance they'll cheat on each other, but Harry doesn't doubt that it could happen..

Even with all these doubts in mind, Harry still grabbed Draco's hand, kissed his knuckles and said; "Yes, I do."


End file.
